There's Always Hope
by ScullysGone
Summary: Post-IWTB - Mulder and Scully are carving out their life together but demons of the past are getting in the way. Bad Summary - just read it and enjoy :-) Please review - I need all the help I can get!
1. Mulder's Confession

I have revised/expanded the original story so if you read the first one - PLEASE REREAD!

I don't own Mulder and Scully or The X Files so none of this is going to make me any money or gain me any fame. Dammit.

THANK YOU FROM THE BOTTOM OF MY HEART SUNSHINE! Without you and your encouragement and opinions, I might not have done the redo and I am LOVING it!

Please leave me feedback/reviews - if it sucks I'll try harder, if its awesome then give me the chance to wallow in happy feels!

(watch for more chapters :-))))))

Mulder's Confession

"I used to believe our lives were the summation of moments we have experienced - the things we've learned from those experiences. But I was wrong. Somewhere along the way, we become only the fear and pain we hold onto, that we can't let go of. The joys and the lessons and the meaning don't amount to anything because our fears override everything. But I believe if we _can_ let go, if we can drive it away with the truth and the passion of our greatest joys, there is a life unimaginable within the stars of our souls. My greatest fear, my deepest pain, will always be losing you, Scully. And I've come so close so many times, that fear is keeping me from living in the stars with you, here and now."

Mulder hated bringing up her abductions, her near-death experiences and the pain of it made his resolve falter. He closed his eyes and tried to remember why he'd decided it was a good idea to tell Scully about the nightmare. It seemed like the right thing to do at the time. He had practically destroyed his office that morning in a fit of anger, after another sleepless night of invisible demons and vivid memories. He hoped she hadn't heard the commotion from upstairs - the concern on her face the moment she appeared at the bottom of the stairs told him he was wrong.

He attempted a deep breath. Sitting across the kitchen table, Scully's face betrayed as much confusion as compassion. She deserved so much more from him than he was giving. She deserved the truth. He shook his head and buried his face in trembling hands.

"Shit, this is harder than I thought it would be…"

Reaching her hand across the empty space between them, Scully took his trembling fingers into her palm. He'd been trying to hide something for so long, failing miserably as usual – the wrinkles in his brow never eased, his shoulders were always tense and tell-tale sleeplessness played in his hazel eyes. She found herself struggling with the tortured look on his face but a small measure of peace warmed her knowing he was finally letting go.

If he hadn't started the conversation, she would have herself. Waking in an empty bed that morning had been surprising – she was never the last one to rise, even with Mulder's history of insomnia. Every night they climbed into bed together and he held her close as she drifted into unconsciousness. But he seldom stayed, easing out from under the quilt noiselessly and returning only when utter exhaustion forced his uneasy rest. Finding him gone this morning had been disconcerting to say the least. Hearing the unmistakable symphony of destruction coming from the general direction of the downstairs office had positively shaken her.

Patiently and quietly, she waited, tracing gentle circles across the back of his hand. They had grown calloused in the last couple of years – chasing criminals, ghosts and aliens now in the past, he spent most of his working hours in the great outdoors, splitting fire wood or keeping their home maintained. He'd even managed a small garden, surprising them both with his apparent green thumb. Scully enjoyed watching him work, seeing the strain of labor in the muscles of his back and his arms, the sweat on his face. It seemed cohesive to her – the strength she knew lived on the inside reflected in the strength she now saw on the outside.

Mulder felt the familiarity of Scully's hand in his and gathered his courage again. She always knew when to simply be there, her quiet presence the only thing he needed to carry on. He swallowed hard, straightened in his chair and began again.

"It started after the Donnie Phaster case. It wasn't the first time I'd nearly lost you but I guess it triggered something inside me. You were so important to me already. You know Scully, I knew the first day you walked into my office my life had changed. You made something inside me come to life, like a part of me had been missing - a part I had no idea I even needed. And then you were almost gone – again. That's when I started having this recurring dream. It was a slide show of every moment I've nearly lost you. Sometimes one image will linger, really driving home the powerlessness I felt at that particular moment. Then it's on to the next. There's no sound. No movement. Just still shots of the worst memories I have. God, they're so real – the feelings so raw. It's truly incredible the terrible things our subconscious can bring to life. Anyway…it played from beginning to end, no skips, no stops, and then it would be over. I would wake up, exhausted and scared, counting the minutes until I could see you or hear your voice again. You know, those nights I would call you at three or four in the morning to discuss some stupid case – usually those were just nights I couldn't wait until daylight to make sure you were ok."

Scully felt her eyes begin to fill. They had been together so long and yet he had never told her of his feelings for her in the beginning. She had no idea he had come to care for her so early in their partnership on the X Files. To think of it now, knowing all the horrible things that happened to them both during their partnership, she shuddered at the pain he must have relived over and over in his nightmare. And she knew his story wasn't finished. She knew there was a much bigger, more horrible demon tormenting him now – the thought of what was to come made her stomach begin to burn.

"When I found you in that hole in the ground last year…"

His voice failed him. How could tell her? How could he confess his secret and make her relive even a second of the terror she had been through at the hands of that psychotic bastard? What kind of man did that to the woman he loved? He hated himself for not being strong enough to move on on his own.

Mulder closed his eyes and was transported back in time to that day 14 months before…

ch 2 coming soon!


	2. Unprepared

The usual - I don't own Scully, Mulder or The X Files so none of this is for money or fame - its for me and for you and for fun!

Please read and review!

_The smell gets worse the deeper I go  
It's so dark  
My flashlight barely cuts the black  
You have to be here  
I don't know if you are alive or…  
I can't bare to think  
I've come this far only because I believe  
I can't give up until I find you  
I won't  
There's a sharp drop in the floor  
I come to a makeshift door  
I bite the flashlight between my teeth Move my weapon to my left hand  
The door is open a little  
I pull it outward and make a quick sweep of the tiny room  
My light bounces off a small mound of dirty blanket in the far corner  
My jaw slackens and I nearly vomit  
The flashlight falls The light beam makes a shadow on the far wall_

_Nothing moves  
My heart is pounding in my chest and in my ears  
I'm so scared  
What if it's you  
What if it isn't  
I can't leave until I know for sure  
I crouch to the ground beside the pile and take a deep breath  
I pull back the dirt-caked blanket_

_I see a tiny foot, calloused and bruised  
Three of the toes are missing toenails  
Deep ligature cuts circle the ankle  
There is a thick crust of dried blood  
I vomit this time  
Then I lift the blanket from the other end_

_Even in the dimness I can see you  
Your hair is matted and almost black with grime  
Your cheeks are sunken and hollow Your eyelids are half-open Your blue eyes are faded and yellowed_

_I've lost you The weight of my failure is crushing me What am I supposed to do without you I pull you into my chest and I cry for a long time _

_I need to look at you  
To say I'm sorry  
To tell you I love you To say goodbye _

_It hurts so badly I know when I look you won't be there I let you down and now you're gone I wipe my tears from your face I move the flashlight so I can see you clearer When the light shines on you I don't believe what I see  
Your pupils constrict and your eyes flinch  
And you are looking straight into me_

_Oh my god_

_You're alive _

Scully gasped for breath, fighting against the constriction in her throat. She felt like she was back in the hole, back in the dark and the pain and the fear. She fought for control, fought the darkness closing in on her vision, forcing herself to keep it together. How could she have been so stupid? How could she not have seen this, seen what was really causing his pain all this time? Of course he had been traumatized by what he found in that god-forsaken pit. She had been as near the edge of death as a thing could be without falling over.

The blindness widened and panic ripped through her, an involuntary spasm of movement that sent her coffee cup flying from the table to the tile floor. The ceramic shattered on the kitchen, glass shards spreading in a bomb-blast wave. The crashing and shattering broke Mulder's trance, stopping his monologue and saving her from falling from rationality into a canyon of uncontrollable fear.

Mulder blinked a few times before realizing Scully had jumped from the table and was mumbling a profanity-laced apology. She was moving erratically trying to find the hand towel. Confused, he looked at the floor and saw the mess. What had he been saying? He was trying to tell her about the nightmare, how it had changed. His train of thought broken, he lowered himself and began to pick up pieces of Scully's mug. Absently he noticed it was her favorite one, the one he'd given her for her birthday the year William was born.

Scully stalled at the counter, gripping the hand towel for dear life while he picked up glass from the tile. When he started talking again, she didn't turn to look at him.

"The nightmare changed that night. Every time it comes now, it ends on that night. And it's not the slide show anymore. It's like I'm there again. Literally, I can feel the hardness of the clay floor under my feet. I'm wet from the dampness."

He stopped reaching and closed his eyes.

"I can smell the stale air and...you. I wake up every time holding my breath so damn hard because I can still smell the death in that room."

Scully held in the sobs fighting for freedom in her chest.

"I'm a mess when I finally wake up - I'm drowning in sweat and I can't breathe. My hands could break concrete they shake so badly and it takes forever to go away. Actually, that's not true. It doesn't really go away until I see you, touch you again."

Mulder returned to his chair, his shoulders hunched in defeat. Too ashamed to look at Scully, he stared at his hands, wet with spilled coffee and useless as far as he was concerned.

"Without you, I'm lost. And the fear of losing you is pushing me to the edge of sanity. I'm afraid all the time, Scully. Afraid when you leave, it will be the last time I see you alive. You are so much stronger than I am. When I think of the disappointment you must feel right now - I'm sorry I'm not stronger. But I love you. With everything I have. You make me whole. You've made this whole journey worthwhile – even if everything else has already been taken away and we can't win. I still have you. You're the only truth I have left."

Scully stood holding her breath. The silence deepened, grew thicker with the passing seconds until she thought it would swallow her whole. She couldn't speak. She couldn't move. God, what was she supposed to do now? Mulder was sitting behind her, his soul bleeding, his heart broken – and it was all her fault. Her weakness had ruined everything – it had ruined their chance of any hope at a life filled with more happy than horrible. She couldn't stand knowing she had broken Mulder so completely. And she couldn't stand in that kitchen a second longer.

"I…I have to go, Mulder. I'm going to be late for…"

A choking sob escaped her control and cut off her words. Abandoning the lame exit strategy, she hurried past him without looking up, gathered her bag and keys and shut the front door behind her without saying goodbye.


	3. Back Into Hell

**TRIGGER WARNING*TRIGGER WARNING*TRIGGER WARNING**

**Reference to rape(non-descriptive) **

**Descriptive language of physical violence and injuries**

I don't own Scully, Mulder, The X Files, AirOne or FirstCom so none of this is for money or fame - it's for me and for you and for fun!

Please read and review!

Driving to the hospital was nearly as disastrous as the gut-wrenching exit she'd pulled at the house. The tears fell like torrential rains, blurring her vision to near-blindness until she lost count of how many horns had blared to bring her back to task.

Were there even words that existed to describe the enormity of her emotions? She seriously doubted it. Guilt. Shame. These were simply too small, not painful enough, not anything compared to the self-loathing she felt at the moment. All those months, all that time thinking she had moved them on. So much time wasted so stupidly blind to Mulder's struggle.

What kind of love was that? What kind of love let a woman become so focused on everything else but the man she cared for the most in life? She fought so damn hard to go back to work after her recovery, desperately needing to return to normal and convincing herself that she was trying to spare him more pain. If he'd known how wrecked she had really been it would have driven him mad. He'd go crazy trying to fix it, to save her from herself. He didn't need that, right?

But that wasn't it at all. It wasn't about being fine. It _was_ about Mulder – but not about sparing him from fixing her once again. It was about not telling him the truth. The truth about what he saw in the tiny room. The truth about _why_ he found her in the condition he had.

Finally arriving at the hospital, she did what she'd been doing for the last year – she let the sounds and the smells override her memories and put every brain cell to work focusing on the health and well-being of her patients. On a good day, she could almost convince herself that she _was_ back to normal.

But this was not to be one of those days.

Scully drove home in silence, one hand on the steering wheel while she tried unsuccessfully to rub away the pounding in her head with the other. The shift had passed without incident, almost without her even realizing time passing at all. Everything was unconscious habit. Work, driving, and the kneading fingers – nothing took a force of will anymore. She was on autopilot twenty-four-seven. She had become very good at not feeling anything at all, determined to keep the pain away.

But pain came anyway, her head constantly feeling like it was a pressure cooker. Post-shift headaches had become the new norm. So had pre-shift headaches, mid-shift headaches, all-the-damn-time headaches - she couldn't remember the last time she hadn't had jack-hammers between her ears.

Massaging her temple, she absently thought about how much she missed music. Strange, since she couldn't remember the last time she noticed it anywhere. She couldn't recall even hearing it in the lobby at the hospital. God, what a pitiful existence she was leading.

But she did miss music. She did miss the concertos. Bach's Brandenburg Concertos had been her favorite since childhood. She used to listen to them all the time. They calmed her - steadied her. Mulder had even given her the complete collection once for her birthday. But that was before.

With a jolting stab of familiarity, the scars on her ankles and wrists began to burn and the thudding in her head intensified. The left side of her face went numb. Flashes of light danced in front of her eyes with fragments of horrible memories that wouldn't stay hidden. Sweat began beading on her forehead and under her arms. Her tongue became a beached whale inside her mouth and she white-knuckled the steering wheel with both hands.

No. No, not again. Not now. She swallowed back the bile rising in her throat and tried to push back the panic, but the wave came crashing over her. Suddenly she slammed back into the driver's seat, the terror taking hold, the darkness covering her like an ominous fog and sending her back into hell.

_He was in front of her, looming over her like Satan himself. The rotten stench of the hell-hole that was her dungeon filled her nostrils, grit from the dirt floor covering her body. _

_He was inching closer, grotesque and vile and covered in filth and she knew he was going to rape her again. Panic rose like a geyser inside her chest - she tried to scream. A stifled, barely audible gurgle trickled out that could just as well have come from miles away. _

_She struggled against the bonds around her wrists and ankles, the ligatures cutting deeper with every pull – always fighting frantically to escape the horror above her. She knew he would make her pay for it but instinct wouldn't let her lay there and wait for the unimaginable. _

_His face an inch from hers, his rank breath threatening to eat away her skin, he let out a deafening howl and swung his fist like a wrecking ball, hitting her square in the gut. The breath rushed out of her lungs like a burst balloon as she flew against the far wall of the tiny room._

_Through the nausea and pain, his gravelly whisper floated in her ears. _

_"Give it up, bitch...you got nothing left...your boyfriend is dead." _

_Her eyes shot open, anger and hatred filling every centimeter and she glared at the devil. Fighting the pain, she struggled to her knees and squared her shoulders as best she could. _

_"Fuck you!" she screamed, loud enough this time that it filled the room as he back-handed her face and sent her crumbling to the floor. _

_He spit on her and threw something hard and metallic. It hit just below her left eye, slicing deep into the flesh and making both tear ducts go into overdrive. Through the blinding pain, she saw the projectile on the floor in front of her. _

_The familiarity cut through her chest. The Michael Kors watch was unmistakable. Stainless steel links, the deep blue and silver - she could just make out the world map etched in the face. Reaching for the watch, her bound hands trembling, she fingered the face and turned it over. Through the tears and the hazy fog of pain, she read the engraving on the back - _

_'There is always hope._

_Forever yours_

_Scully'_

_Ragged sobs choked in her throat and her hands clutched the time piece. The devil gave her another swift attack, his filthy boot crashing across the left side of her face, sending her into the quiet dark of unconsciousness._

**Air One: **AirOne – FirstCom.

**FirstCom:** FirstCom – AirOne go ahead.

**AirOne:** Enroute your location; estimated flight time 9 minutes with approximately 45 year-old female; single victim of two-vehicle MVC; patient's vehicle t-boned with roughly two feet intrusion to driver's side; positive airbag deployment and seat-belt; mechanical extrication required; patient unconscious at the scene and remains obtunded; large laceration to left forehead; multiple abrasions and bruising to left side of torso and extremities; bleeding controlled; suspect internal injuries and possible closed head but unable to determine at this time; patient packaged with full c-spine precautions; bilateral 16 gauge IV's running normal saline; O2 at 15 liters via non-rebreather; EKG and current vitals stable and being transmitted at this time; suggest Trauma Team alert and requesting transport assistance at the helipad upon arrival; over.

**FirstCom:** Copy you AirOne; Trauma Team on alert; see you in 9; FirstCom out.


	4. Waking Up

The usual - I don't own The X Files, Scully or Mulder.

If there happens to be a real Our Lady of Hope Medical Center and/or a Chief of Emergency Medicine named Greg Davis - I don't own them either.

This is not for money or fame - its for you and for me and for fun :-)

Please read and review!

THANK YOU SUNNY!

* * *

**10:13am**

Mulder woke in a hurricane of flailing arms and legs, raining sweat and gasping for air. Almost falling out of the chair, he grabbed the table for stability and tried to remember where the hell he was. The kitchen. Ok, so why was he sleeping at the kitchen table? Damn, when was this going to stop? Looking around the room, he tried to drive away the fogginess of the nightmare and remember.

The clock above the stove read ten-thirteen. That meant he'd been in the same spot for almost five hours. No wonder he was numb from his ass down to the floor. Like the waking nerves in his legs, the events of the morning slowly came back – he'd told Scully about the nightmare. And it hadn't gone well. He remembered the shattered coffee mug. Tears she tried to hide. Shaking hands and quivering voice. Then she left without saying goodbye, and he had sat at that table and cried – and apparently fallen asleep.

He pulled himself up and walked upstairs into the bathroom. It smelled of her perfume. It was a light and subtle number he'd given her specifically to wear at the hospital - strong fragrances were a no-no but he knew she liked to smell nice. He turned on the shower and stared at his reflection in the mirror. It was the first time he realized how old he looked. Hell, he felt old. Weariness filled his bones. Looking at the man in the reflection, he berated the bastard.

"Why couldn't you leave well-enough alone? Better yet, why couldn't you grow a pair and get past it on your own, you stupid ass. You just ruined any chance at all of spending the rest of your life with her, ya know? What woman in her right mind would stay with such a pathetic fuck?"

He shook his head in disgust at his own existence and stepped into the shower, praying the scalding water would wash away his uselessness.

**11:36pm**

The phone rang and Mulder grabbed it before the first tone disappeared.

"Scully?!"

"Mulder."

A man's voice? It wasn't her and for a moment Mulder almost hung up the phone in anger and fear. She was late and she hadn't called – he knew she could be stuck in surgery, but even then she always had her nurse let him know.

"Mulder? Are you there?"

"Who is this?"

"It's Greg, Mulder."

Mulder's heart stopped. Why was Greg Davis calling him? The Chief of Emergency Medicine at Our Lady of Hope Medical Center wasn't just one of Scully's coworkers, he had become a trusted friend. Still, his phone call didn't ring true to form – something was wrong.

"What's going on, Greg? Where's Scully?"

"You need to come to the hospital, Mulder."

Panic rose like a geyser in his gut.

"Greg?! Where. Is. Scully?"

"She's being flown in as we speak – she's been in a car accident. One of the medics on scene called me when they recognized her. I don't know much more than that right now, but you need to get down here."

Mulder didn't bother answering – he dropped the phone without replacing the receiver, grabbed his keys, and didn't even bother locking the door on his way out.

* * *

"Dammit Greg! Where is she?"

Mulder's face was wet with sweat, his brow furrowed with deep lines of fear and worry. Veins bulging in his neck, threatening to burst at any moment, he looked every bit as insane as he felt. Nothing was making sense to him, the neurons in his brain chaotically firing but making all the wrong connections. People were talking but nothing sounded like any language he'd ever heard.

A sudden explosion of pain in his gut brought him up short. Doubled over and falling to his knees, he struggled with nausea for several moments. He swallowed the urge to puke, gasped for more air and raised his head, making eye contact with Greg, who had sucker-punched him to force a redirect of focus. It worked.

"Listen to me, Mulder. I'm only going to say this one more time. You have got to calm down."

Mulder dropped his head and sucked in a deep breath.

"Mulder, look at me. She's alive and she's going to be fine. They took her back to radiology. She will be coming back any minute."

He couldn't look away, even after Davis was obviously finished talking. He felt like the world was collapsing around him, tears filling his eyes. He believed Greg but he needed to see her, to touch her, feel the warmth of her skin, and hear her breathing.

Automatic doors opened at the other end of the trauma hall and a transporter came through pushing a gurney towards the two men. Mulder scrambled to his feet, dizziness nearly knocking him back to his knees. Davis steadied him and they moved aside as the gurney wheeled past them and into the trauma bay.

Mulder stood at the curtain and stared at Scully. She was so still, so small in the long narrow bed. Auburn hair lay across the pillow, splayed in half-hazard directions. He could see the shallow rise and fall of her chest under the blue blanket and he felt his own breathing synchronize with hers. The saline bag hanging from the IV poll had a slow drip-drip-drip that flowed into tubing that disappeared under the right side of the blanket. A heart monitor quietly beeped with each heartbeat.

He slowly moved into the room. Greg walked silently behind him, bringing up a chair from the corner of the room and putting it behind Mulder.

"It's ok, Mulder. Here, sit down."

A gentle hand on his shoulder guided Mulder to the chair. He leaned in towards the bed and reached his hand to brush the hair from her face. Fresh sutures snaked their way across her left temple, bruises already appearing around her eye socket and along her jaw-line. There was ACE wrap covering her left hand, up to her elbow and he could see bruises above the dressing all the way up to her shoulder. He put his hand softly over hers.

"What happened?"

"According to the reports I got, she was on 79 headed home when she approached the intersection at Martin's Bridge Road and didn't make the stop. The witness in the vehicle behind her said she had drifted into the on-coming lane as she blew the stop sign. A pick-up truck coming from Martin's Bridge hit her right on the B post of the driver's side – a text-book T-bone."

Mulder nearly threw up.

"Is she ok? I mean, what are her injuries?"

"You can see the sutures on her temple. She has a pretty bad concussion but no active bleeding on her brain, and the swelling seems to have stopped. I've ordered a series of CT scans to keep an eye on it, of course, and she'll stay here until I'm satisfied she's out of the woods. That's the worst of it, luckily. There is significant bruising over the left side of her body, as you can understand, but no internal bleeding. Two fractured ribs. Her left wrist is probably broken but I'll have to wait for the swelling to go down to get a decent x-ray. A bunch of small lacerations, but those will heal without scarring..."

Mulder looked at the doctor when his voice trailed off.

"What Greg? I hear a 'but' in your voice."

"Mulder, she's got injuries I would expect to find in a person who was intoxicated at the time of the crash."

"What? Are you saying she was drinking and driving?!"

Mulder was indignant at the suggestion, his face turning red again.

"Of course not, Mulder! What I'm saying is I think she was unconscious _before_ the truck hit her. Drunk drivers, or unconscious people in general, are loose. Their bodies flex more than a fully-aware person – what I mean is they _absorb_ impact rather than tensing and bracing _against_ it. The witness said she was in the on-coming lane of traffic and that she didn't even tap the brakes as she approached the intersection. Does that make any sense to you? Because it sure doesn't to me. You've said it yourself – she's the safest driver either of us have ever been in a car with. So why would she have been in the wrong lane and not even tried to stop?"

_She felt heavy, like sand bags lay on top of her, holding her down. Or maybe gravity had shifted and she now weighed three times as much as she should. Mulder would love that - the world's biggest skeptic entertaining the idea that the forces of nature had altered in some tangible way._

_Mulder._

_Suddenly she was filled with the overwhelming need to touch him. Her skin tingled and her muscles burned. She had to get up. She needed to find Mulder._

Both men raised their eyes to the sudden screaming of the heart monitor alarm - Scully's rate had jumped to more than one-hundred, the tracer line making frantic up and down movements.

"Greg!"

Davis quickly moved between Mulder and the gurney. He listened to Scully's chest with his stethoscope and then shone his penlight into each of her arctic-blue eyes. Satisfied with what he saw, he put the light back in his pocket, silenced the monitor alarm and spoke to her.

"Dana? It's Greg. Can you wake up for me?"

Mulder held his breath. Unwelcome what-ifs raced through his head like rabid dogs. What if she wasn't ok? What if she didn't open her eyes? What if she never opened her eyes again? He knew about trauma victims that never regained consciousness, even when everything looked like they should. Hell, Scully had treated two of them since joining the trauma team at the hospital.

"C'mon Scully," he pleaded.

_She could hear him. Mulder was talking to her, calling her name. But why was he so far away? She fought the weight holding her down, forcing her hands to claw through the darkness. If she could just wave her hand, show him she was trying, he'd come closer and she could touch him. That was all she wanted._

Mulder felt her fingers move under his hand. Looking briefly at her swollen digits then back to her face, he saw her eyebrows rising and falling as if struggling against their own weight. She was trying, fighting.

"That's it, Scully. C'mon, open your eyes."

A tiny sliver of blue appeared between the lids of her right eye, then disappeared as they fell shut again. Mulder held his breath. Please, God, let her wake up. He dropped his chin to his chest and prayed – she had used the strength of his beliefs to pull through before. Now he called upon the strength of her faith and begged God to give her back to him. The silence broke in two with a whisper.

"Mulder..."


	5. Out of Darkness

The usual - I don't own The X Files, Mulder or Scully - this is for fun, not for money and fame.

Please read and review!

Sunny, as always, you are the MOSTEST! Thank you so much!

* * *

Scully drifted in and out of semi-consciousness throughout the night and the following day. All the follow-up scans showed no increase in swelling, no new bleeding but she wasn't waking up. Mulder sat by her side, never moving more than a few feet in any direction. She called his name occasionally, but most of the sounds she made were incoherent moanings. More than once he saw tears rolling down her cheeks as she whimpered.

The waiting was agonizing. He paced the floor, waiting nervously in the corner when the ICU nurse came to check Scully's vital signs or change IV bags. He had expected them to stay in the ER until the scans cleared and then go home, but when she wouldn't wake up, Greg had her transferred to ICU. It was a move that scared Mulder to death. He'd been here before, too many times.

"Why isn't she awake, Greg?"

The doctor pulled the curtain closed behind him.

"I've been thinking about that and I have another theory – you're not going to like it. I already told you I think she was unconscious before the accident. Her tox-screen was negative and her blood work was in the black except for an abnormal level of cortisol. Cortisol increases with high-stress situations. Her numbers were ridiculous, Mulder. I'm talking stupid-high."

Davis took a deep breath.

"And I've seen numbers like that before – in PTSD patients after some pretty harsh flashbacks."

Mulder flinched. The insinuation was not lost on him. No one knew about Scully's abduction 14 months ago except Greg. When Mulder found her, she'd been flown to the nearest facility with a Level One Trauma Center, a hospital more than one hundred miles from where she now lay. Mulder called Greg as soon as the helicopter had taken off – he needed someone he could trust and Scully trusted Greg. Her entire recovery had taken place at that facility – she'd insisted no one on staff at Our Lady of Hope know anything. And Greg had kept their confidence, effectively earning Mulder's trust in the process.

"Are you saying she had some kind of breakdown?"

"I think so. Has she been having problems lately? At home I mean. I haven't noticed anything at work but I'm not with her as much as you are. Has she seemed depressed? Trouble sleeping? Not eating? Quick temper, zoning out or keeping her distance from you?"

Mulder wracked his brain trying to remember if he'd seen any of the signs Greg rattled off but nothing stood out. In fact, he was pretty sure _he_ had been showing more signs than Scully had.

"No. None of that."

"Can you think of anything that might have happened lately that would have triggered a flashback?"

Mulder stopped breathing.

"Mulder? What happened?"

With a shaking voice he told his friend about their conversation the morning of Scully's accident. He told about his own demons, about the nightmare and how he was afraid to lose her again. Laying everything out again, Scully lying in the bed beside him hooked to wires and tubes, he felt even more worthless. He had done this to her. He caused her to have a PTSD-induced attack while she was driving and nearly killed her. Guilt flooded every cell in his body.

"That's it, then. That would explain the witness' report, her injuries. Everything."

"Not everything, Greg."

Mulder looked at Scully's still frame, shaking his head from side to side.

"It doesn't explain why she isn't waking up."

"Actually it does. Hear me out on this, ok."

Mulder waited patiently.

"I've been watching her Cortisol level. It hasn't gone down like it should - after stressors are removed, or in this case the flashback is over, the level should start to normalize as the body's fight-or-flight response returns to 'safe mode'. Scully's hasn't leveled off. It's fluctuated to a degree but hasn't come close to returning to baseline."

"I'm not following you."

Greg ran his hands over his face a couple of times and then tousled his blond hair.

"Mulder, she's still in the flashback."

Mulder looked from Scully to Davis and back to Scully, Greg's words rolling around in his head. Still in the flashback? What, like she was reliving the whole thing this whole time? Holy hell, what had he done to her? Unable to sit in the chair any longer, he stood so quickly he knocked it over, the pressed-wood frame making a thunderous racket in the silence. He stumbled backwards, unconsciously trying to put as much distance between him and Scully as possible, as if his mere presence was making her condition worse.

"I…she…Greg!"

The room started spinning. Throwing his hands out for balance, knocking over the bed-side table, he thrashed in his own skin until the ground came rushing up to meet him and the world went black.

* * *

_So many noises. _

_There hadn't been any noise before. _

_Her hell was silent and black and nothing moved except for her._

_But this time, there were crashes and bangs and thuds…and voices._

_MULDER!_

_She heard his name, a cry from deep in the darkness. _

_Mulder?_

_She was scared. Why was he here?_

_What was happening to him? _

_She needed to find him. He needed her._

* * *

Mulder came to and Greg's face emerged, framed by the white grid of the drop-ceiling. He was flat on his back on the damn floor. Son of a bitch, he was just full of the emotionally-strong-male shit these days. Struggling against hands holding him to the ground, Mulder forced his way up and dropped his head between his knees. Greg put a hand on his shoulder.

"You ok?"

"Yeah, just give me a second. I didn't break anything, did I?"

"Nothing important. Your head and your ass broke the fall, so I think you'll be fine."

Mulder looked sideways at the doc and gave a weak grin. With the weight of the world on his shoulders, he looked back to the love of his life lying in the bed across the room.

"You really think she's stuck in there like you said?"

"I believe it's a real possibility."

Mulder stared at her wondering how he'd messed up so horribly.

"What do I do?"

Davis put his hand under Mulder's arm and pulled him up from the floor. Squared in front him, blocking his view of Scully, he locked eyes with Mulder.

"If I'm right - and let's face it, we can't pretend to have another explanation at this point - if she is stuck inside her own nightmare, then what she needs the most right now is to hear you, feel you near her. You are safety for her, Mulder. You always have been – she's told me that herself. And she needs that more than anything if she _is_ fighting those memories. You can play the blame game all you want when this is all over, but right now you have to believe me when I say this is _not_ your fault. So stop backing away. Stop holding back. Get your ass over there and talk to her. She can hear you - she _needs_ to hear you."

Scully had always been good at judging character and Greg Davis was another notch in her belt. He was a good man, a good friend, and Mulder pulled every ounce of strength he could from his friend's words. He walked to Scully's side and took her hand in his. Sitting beside her on the mattress, he raised her fingers to his lips - even now, bathed in the smells of the hospital she still had the scent of the woman he loved.

Her eyes moved erratically under their lids and he wondered if she was dreaming, the pain in his heart intensifying to think she might again be seeing the ugliness she had lived in that hole.

"Hey, doc. Greg's standing over here and he says you're stuck in there - that all you need is for me to talk to you. I don't know what's going on in there, but I sure wish you'd open those beautiful eyes of yours."

* * *

_He was so close. She could hear him, feel him._

_His lips, softness she would know anywhere._

_She could feel them._

_She wanted to see him. But it was so dark._

_Open your eyes, Dana._

* * *

He looked back over his shoulder. Greg gave him a little nod, turning out of the room and closing the door behind him.

"I haven't been very good at that lately, I know – talking to you I mean. But I am here, Scully. I'm right here and I'm not going anywhere until you know you're safe. Whatever is happening inside you right now, you don't have to be afraid. It's not real. Just open your eyes and you'll see. I need you to come back to me, Scully. I need you…"

His voice trailed off as a tear fell and landed on her cheek. Reaching up to wipe it away, Mulder noticed a calm had fallen over her eyes – maybe Greg was right. Maybe what she needed _was_ to hear his voice, to know he was there. In all their years together, he never thought of himself as something she _needed_. Scully was so strong, so independent. He didn't doubt her love for a second, but he did consider himself more of an indulgence than a necessity. She loved him and was happy to be with him. But did she really need him? The idea made him even more conscious of his failure.

"Scully, I don't know how to say I'm sorry. I don't know how to make you understand. You can't leave me like this – not because of my weakness. Please, wake up. Even if the only thing you do is tell me to get out of your life – please wake up."

* * *

_Wake up, Dana._

_It isn't real. A light – so far away._

_She felt the weight lifting and fought harder._

_Mulder was there, somewhere in the distant light._

_Wake up, Dana._

_Tiny flashes, slivers of bright dancing in the distance._

_She pushed back against the black, fighting._

_She would find him and never go back to the dark again._

_WAKE UP!_

* * *

Mulder felt her hand tighten around his, a gentle squeezing that grew stronger and stronger as the seconds passed. Watching her chest rise and fall, her breathing quickening as her strength increased, he worried she was falling back into the nightmare.

"Scully? Can you hear me? I'm right here and you're safe. Open your eyes and see, Scully."

* * *

_You're safe._

_Mulder's voice reached through the dark, bringing her into the light._

_Finally._

* * *

"Mulder…"

Scully opened her eyes, the left slightly less than the right. Moving her head slowly back and forth, she worked through the blurriness, searching for his face.

"That's it, Scully. I'm right here. I'm right here."

Mulder moved closer to her, closing the distance and feeling her breath against his face. She raised her head off the pillow slightly and whispered words he would never forget.

"I heard you in the dark."


	6. Hope

Well folks, this is it! The last chapter - I can't believe it's really over. Thank you to everyone that has read and responded to this little blurb - the feedback and support has been amazing and I love y'all!

I couldn't/wouldn't have done this without the Cock-Blocking Bee, Shannon - my Sunshine - Baldwin! Thank you for all your editing and encouragement! I can't wait for our next adventure :-)))

As usual, I don't own FM, DS, TXF or anything other than my ideas and adventures - this is not for money or fame. It's for me and for you and for fun!

So read, enjoy, respond and watch for more MSR fanfic from your's truly!

MWAH!

* * *

"What's up Doc?"

Scully jumped a little. He'd barely spoken above a whisper, but she was so lost in her head she would have likely startled at a mouse fart. They had been home for two days – the feel of the wooden floors beneath her feet and the familiarity of their bed far more healing than any medicine or treatment she'd been given at the hospital. This was where she lived, with Mulder – the two of them trying desperately to make a life worth living. This was home and she had forgotten how precious it was to her. Stepping over the threshold after her wreck had been one of the most cathartic moments of her life.

Now reclining on the arm of the couch, her legs draped over Mulder's lap, she was tracing circles around the face of his watch. It was as beautiful as the day she gave it to him. No one would ever guess the hell the thing had been through. His wrist had been vacant only one time since he first slid the silver links over his hand and clasped the buckle.

As proficient as he was at chopping wood, scrubbing dishes or making her coffee, the little machine could probably do all the things without Mulder's arm for support. The hand movements had ticked away precious hours filled with beautiful love-making as well as miles of nervous pacing. It had seen fire and rain and two tornadoes. And it was washed with too many tears from her eyes. Her joints could still feel the hardness of the ground where she had lain and wept over it. She could smell the staleness of the clay as her tears seeped through the links to the earth - as fresh and vivid as if she were still there. The demons were still strong.

"I was just thinking about your watch."

She turned her face up to meet his eyes, seeing in the deep brown he knew exactly what she meant. Turning back to the watch, unable to face what might play across his face, she continued.

"I've been thinking about a lot of things actually. Gunshot wounds and abductions and viruses - everything. As hard as it's been to remember, it's been even harder to keep it all hidden. We should have talked, Mulder - and a very long time ago. Too many times we've just slipped through the pain. I've said "I'm fine" more times than I've told you I love you."

A nervous chuckle escaped and she turned to him once more, sincerity in her voice.

"And I do. I love you so much. I depend on your courage and your strength. I need everything about you. You are the best parts of who I've become. You've taught me more than I thought I could ever learn. I've seen things I would have never seen if it weren't for you opening my eyes, and my heart. But we're broken, Mulder."

She paused, wiping a single tear from her cheek. There were so many reasons to just move on. Should she really be dredging up their past? Her resolve faltered and she squeezed her eyes tightly shut. In her mind, she saw Greg sitting next to her hospital bed the day she was released. He came in to check on her when Mulder stepped down to the hospital's coffee shop. She knew Davis well enough to know he'd chosen his entrance with a purpose and she hadn't been wrong.

* * *

"_So, you going to tell me what happened?"_

"_I had a wreck. Probably fell asl-"_

"_Dana, stop. I know you haven't told Mulder anything and that's been your decision – up until this point anyway. But you've lost whatever control you had. You're past the point of hiding anything. You're a doctor for Christ-sake. You know better – you know it's only going to get worse."_

_Damn the man, he did cut right to the quick, didn't he. But he came to help, she knew that. And he was right, but that didn't stop her from being afraid of what he wanted to hear. She didn't have long before Mulder would return and there was no way to escape Greg's piercing stare. _

_Better get it over with._

"_I thought I was fine. I mean, it was hard in the beginning, after I came home. I was afraid of things – silly things like the smell of the root cellar or the silence of our bedroom at night when Mulder wasn't there. But I pushed through, fought to get back on track, and I thought I had. Work was a welcome distraction. At home…well, I just refused to let anything in. Especially Mulder. And I thought I was keeping it hidden from him."_

_She let her head fall slightly and rubbed her left elbow gingerly._

"_I was stupid, I guess. I didn't realize…I mean…I was just stupid. The headaches have gotten worse. Now it's just constant pain. Sometimes when Mulder's gone I have panic attacks – I can't breathe and my vision starts to go black. I grab anything I can that's his and bury my face – the smell of him used to calm me down but even that hasn't worked as well anymore."_

_She tried to steady herself and failed miserably, her eyelids filling with unwanted tears._

"_Then he told me about his dream. God, Greg. The things we have hidden from each other, the pain we refuse to share, to let go of."_

_Davis reached out and put his hand on hers. She smiled weakly at the gesture. _

"_Anyway, I guess it finally beat me this time. I remember leaving the hospital, driving through the city and out-of-town. I remember thinking about music…and then all I could see was black. The pain was real. Fear. I was trapped in a firestorm. Just instant panic and pain. And I couldn't do anything to stop it."_

_The tears fell. She swiped angrily at her face but it only made them fall faster. She hated feeling weak, especially in front of anyone. It was truly her Achilles Heel. Without condemnation or judgment, Greg spoke through her tears._

"_You know what you have to do, Dana. It will never end for either of you if you don't."_

* * *

Opening her eyes, her determination returned. It was time to stop the bleeding.

"I thought all I had to do was leave the past behind and keep walking. But it doesn't work that way - I know that now. Ignoring the demons doesn't make them go away. They just get bigger and scarier, and eventually they are the only thing we can see. I told you once I didn't want the darkness in our home. But we brought it in ourselves. And it's time to let go. It's past time."

Scully looked into his eyes and he remembered the morning of the wreck. The one time he'd chosen to share his fears, his demons, and she'd nearly died on the way home from work. How could reliving those things possibly help them? He didn't believe anything good could come of it, but she continued before he could stop her.

"You found me, Mulder. You came and rescued me from that hell hole and I would be dead now if you hadn't. I _wanted_ to die."

Mulder heard her voice shake and knew he couldn't listen to anymore. She buried her father, her sister - hell, she buried him. She overcame cancer and abductions and death. She'd said goodbye to two precious children. So much pain, yet she'd endured. She rose every day and faced a future that was likely to hold only more grief - but she never gave up. She was a fighter.

"Scully, don't do..."

"Mulder, stop. Listen to me, please, I need to do this. _We_ need this. Your nightmare, the pain you've been reliving because of what you saw that night – it's because I quit Mulder. I-"

"Scully, no!"

He hadn't meant to yell at her. He hadn't meant to jerk his hand away or nearly knock her off the couch jumping from his seat. God, could he do anything right anymore?

Scully watched him fall to his knees beside her and drop his head to the floor. His body shook and trembled and she could hear his ragged breathing. Easing down beside him she wrapped her arms around his shoulders, the pain in her heart greater than the pain in her body.

Two people could never know each other better than they did. He felt he had failed her. His fear, always wondering if she would come home again - he felt it was a betrayal. A weakness. A fault that made him less deserving of her in some way. She needed to make him understand that they had both been beaten.

When the devil told her Mulder was dead she would never have believed him - but he had the watch. The watch Mulder had never taken off. The watch he'd promised her would only come off if he was dead. She had been in the dark for so long. The monster had done so many horrible things to her - there was nothing left to fight him with. The last string in a frayed and rotting cloak of hope blew away like dust when that watch hit the floor in front of her.

"Mulder, what you saw when you found me - the only thing still alive in me at that point was the heart beating in my chest. I prayed constantly it would quit. I wanted to die. He said you were dead. He said you were dead and I cursed him for a liar. But your watch - when I saw the engraving on the back..."

She drifted into silence. Mulder lifted his head and turned to face her. The weight of her words fell on him like an avalanche. She was still so strong - after everything she had been through in her life, she was still the strongest person he would ever know. As hard as it was for him to accept, he knew it had to be even harder for her – she had been the one in that god-forsaken pit. But he knew she was right. And she would always be the only person that could make him see things when he refused. They _were _broken. And she was putting all the broken pieces out in front of them, trying to put their life back together.

He wanted nothing more than to make her understand that he loved her, needed her and most importantly that he understood what she was saying, what she was doing for them. Taking her porcelain face in his hands he moved towards her. With all the tenderness in his heart, he pressed his lips to hers, their warmth melting pain, their softness a salve over wounded souls.

"Oh my god, Mulder..." The phrase escaping, Scully wrapped her arms around him, drinking in the moment of utter relief.

"I'm so sorry. I should have told you about the-"

"Mulder, stop. There is no more 'I'm sorry.'"

She pulled away from him gently, making sure he knew she wasn't angry. They had to stop this cycle of out-guilting each other. It was a black pit, an ever-widening chasm between them, and if they couldn't stop it, it would destroy everything they held dear.

"We both know we will never be safe. It's just not possible to protect the things we care the most for in the way we want. We can try – God knows you and I have tried. But in the end, there is always something or someone out there that will be stronger than us. There will always be monsters."

She squeezed his hands and continued.

"We cannot keep blaming ourselves. It's like you said – the darkness finds us, Mulder. It always has and it always will. The only thing we have is each other - if we keep feeding this guilt, we will lose _us_. And if we do that, they win."

Mulder looked down at their hands, comforted by the fact that even with the size difference it was difficult to tell which fingers were hers and which were his. She kept speaking.

"I have thought you were dead twice now. The first time, I had our son growing inside me - every time I felt him move it was you telling me to not give up. The last time, I thought I had nothing to live for. William is gone. And if you were gone then I was done. But I was wrong, Mulder. You have _always_ been inside me. You are part of me, my perfect other, and my constant. Even if you leave this world, I will never be without you. It is the only truth that can never be taken away from me. So I will never give up again. I will fight forever to keep you alive, even if it's only inside my beating heart."

Mulder gazed in wonder at the woman before him. Where had she come from and how had the stars aligned so perfectly that she was his? She defied all explanation. She spoke with wisdom beyond his grasp, truths he would never have found. How blind had he been to waste so much time fearing the darkness instead of drinking in every moment of her light? The darkness was always there like she said, and he had given it entirely too much attention. He'd given it power over the hope. Never again.

"Scully, you are mine. Always and forever, you are mine. I know you're right about the darkness - as much as it pisses me off to say it, I know I'll never keep you as safe as I want. But I will not let fear keep us from living the rest of our life."

God, what a gift she was. Unable to hold back, Mulder took her in his arms and kissed her passionately, every ounce of his love flowing from his lips to hers. They would survive. They would live their lives in each other's arms, and they would defeat any darkness that came because they had the hope of each other.

Scully felt the urgency in his lips and was swept away. It had been so long since they had held each other with anything but fear. All the pain in her body disappeared and she fell into him like the last piece of a puzzle, a perfect fit. They were together - no matter what the future held they would fight it side by side. And they would win, no matter the odds, no matter the lies - because there would always be hope.


End file.
